


The Unstoppable Titan of Terror

by AnnaMcb24



Series: the Office!AU [3]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Asperger Syndrome, Canon Disabled Character, Children, F/M, M/M, Original Character(s), Past Hannibal Chau/Newton Geiszler, Past Hermann Gottlieb/Vanessa Gottlieb - Freeform, Past Relationship(s), Relationship Problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 18:19:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1176335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaMcb24/pseuds/AnnaMcb24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing about this is the future Newt imagined for himself and Emma is the least pleasant surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unstoppable Titan of Terror

He's only twelve years old when the doctor says that he probably won't and definitely shouldn't have children and, unfortunately, he's too young at the time to call bullshit.

And, okay, it's not like the doctor says it to him exactly, but he says it to his dad and his uncle while Newt is in the room and no one thinks he's listening but he totally is because not engaging because you don't want to and because you weren't fucking invited are two very different things.

And even if he could've called bullshit and even though his dad _definitely_ could've because Newt is _his_ son, neither of them would've thought of it because Newt is still a kid and his dad wouldn't have because at the time that's just what was thought. If you're autistic or Aspergers or whatever way "abnormal", you don't have kids.

Also it's lucky for Newt that his dad didn't even know he or Uncle Illia were autistic until Newt was diagnosed because it probably would've meant Newt never being born because his dad is the type of naive that always takes the doctor's word as law.

And when Newt is twelve he's also that type of naive so he sorts the sentence ("He probably won't and definitely shouldn't have children—ever.") into the 'truth' part of his brain and yeah now he's a doctor and he knows there's no 'truth' cortex or whatever but those ideas, the ones you decide are true and they just become part of how you view the universe. The earth is round; find C and you can find the rest of the song; the sun is a giant sphere of burning gas; his parents are allergic to marriage; a yarmulke will never stay on your head without a clip; he should never have children.

And yeah Hermann is definitely pretty Aspergers and he has a daughter and Newt has been pretty successful at forgetting those things over the past three years because he doesn't want to judge Hermann a lot because he likes Hermann and he doesn't want to not like Hermann.

He also doesn't want to think about Hermann being intimate with Vanessa.  (See? He can't even _think_ the word 'fuck' in connection with them.) But that's, like, something else.

Emma had just been born when Newt met Hermann in real life and he and Vanessa were having marriage problems and at the time Newt kind of viewed Emma as something which existed probably. A year later, they were separated and Newt viewed Emma as probably still exigent. Three months (and Newt has always prided himself on holding back that long) after that, Newt kisses Hermann in the wreck of an apartment he used to occupy in the city and from that point on, he blocks out all talk of Emma and doesn't respond if Hermann says her name.

And then four months ago, about two years after Hermann and Vanessa finalized their _terrifyingly amicable_ divorce, he and Hermann drove up to New York and got married. The only real guests were Vanessa, Emma, Newt's dad and Newt’s uncle, because the rest of Hermann's family are all douchebags and Newt doesn't really get _silent_ familial relations so he doesn't touch that shit. Newt's family are all loud and dramatic and theatrical and they yell when they're angry and his mom has thrown shit at his dad before when they're fighting and maybe he's inherited that. He's definitely infected Hermann with it. He used to be much more of a grin-and-bear-it (more like scowl-and-bear-it) type before he and Newt had their first wild argument, where Newt started yelling and, miraculously, Hermann had joined in and it had all been sort of perfect.

It was also the moment Newt realized that he'd fallen in love with Hermann, which was kind of a weird feeling, a bit like waking up when the sweat has cooled on your skin but your face is still hot from fever. Discordant sensations of fear and euphoria and a sinking feeling of 'oh God what did I just fuck up'. Increased heart rate and unsteady breathing. Too slow reflexes and a sudden paranoia about the very idea of telepathy. He wants to jerk off right then and there just to focus on one feeling, but he can't because he's standing ten feet from Hermann in that same shitty apartment where they kiss over a year later and there's a ton of mess and of course this is what would happen. Because Newt finally made a friend and granted it took the internet and him getting about six doctorates and publishing a shit-ton of papers but he made a friend and now he has no fucking idea what to do with him. He left just standing there, screaming at Hermann and waiting for one of his neighbors to knock on the door and make sure everything's okay. And he knows—when Hermann finally snaps back and Newt falls in love because everyone he's ever loved is the sort of person who just _can't let anything alone_ and Hermann rolls his eyes at Newt's exaggerations and while knowing that they could both stand there, screaming their opinions at each other—that he's going to marry Hermann Gottlieb, one way or another.

Anyway, so they get married and Hermann has this weird friendly relationship with his ex-wife that Newt just _doesn't get at all_ and then Vanessa just pulls some fucking random shit and decides that she doesn't think she can raise Emma and continue her work as a model. (File under things Newt will never get: how the fuck Hermann got a model to marry him.)

Emma, by the way, is four years old and has skin the color of ginger snaps and she'll probably end up tall like her mother and Newt is really fucking confused because up until two months ago he wasn't even supposed to have kids ever (he even got a fucking vasectomy to make sure even though he's gay as fuck) and now he's supposed to help raise Hermann's kid and he's been avoiding meeting her since they got married (which was quite a challenge as both she and Vanessa were at the wedding).

He doesn’t know how to talk to her, not that she’s coherent the majority of the time. She talks endlessly about nothing—well, not nothing. She tells nonsensical stories and spews bullshit. And she talks over people about this made up shit and Newt just—

He doesn’t have any patience for her. And this means he usually just ends up shouting at her after about an hour in her company. She cries at everything too—especially at Newt, because she apparently hates his voice, but that may be because of the yelling thing. But she yells all the time too and so does Hermann and she doesn’t cry when _he_ yells.

She sleeps weird hours too and, okay, he and Hermann are _barely_ on the same sleeping schedule. Hermann heads off to bed at eight, does his stretches and shit and is in bed by nine and Newt _tries_ to lie down at the same time, but sometimes he’ll get distracted by his laptop or some part of his most recent research and he’ll end up under the covers after midnight. Or sometimes he’s down by nine, but he can’t sleep and so he gets up and fucks around until four in the morning and only ends up getting three hours’ sleep. But by seven thirty every day, he and Hermann are at the kitchen table and eating breakfast. (Newt makes breakfast and lunch on weekdays and Hermann cooks dinner most nights.) But Emma can’t seem to sleep through the night for some reason and she’s loud and she gets up at fucking midnight and talks to herself and to her dolls and Hermann sleeps right through and Newt hasn’t slept in fucking _weeks_.

He’s sure he could love Emma in some vague theoretical way if she didn’t live with them. But she does. So he just has to fucking deal with her and to try not to kill her until she’s eighteen when she can fuck off to college and he can finally get fucked by Hermann in peace.

They’ve not had sex since Vanessa moved Emma in two months ago.

He’s going to kill something.

 

He’s been pulled out of the lab to finish the reports, which is annoying as fuck because the office is stupid and Hermann announced that morning _again_ that he’s still not talking to Newt. Which means it’s going to be a long day of Newt working in the conference room with just his laptop and a pile of notes made by his research assistant and it’s so fucking stupid. He hates going into the office. He still doesn’t get why he can’t just have an intern write up the reports. They’d be better at it than he is.

At least that cutie pie receptionist will be there. The guy is a bit too frat-bro-man for Newt’s taste, but Newt’s gone with that type before and they’re not always terrible. Newt’s got a bit of a problem where he finds gentiles automatically sketch—even though he’s gone home with a lot of goyim before—and Raleigh The Receptionist is no exception. He’s got blond hair and blue eyes, for Christ’s sake. He’s a walking, talking Aryan propaganda poster.

Still, he’s a cutie with a fucking _awesome_ butt and Newt isn’t going to give that up. Also he hasn’t been a dick about Newt and Hermann obviously being together ( _married_ , they’re _married_ —it’s just he finds it hard to think about it like that because it means he’s not been with anyone besides Hermann in _years_ that is too fucked up) though maybe he’s not caught on. Newt’s seen that sort of enforced ignorance before—that kind of “ _oh well those two guys are holding hands! I wonder if they’re roommates_ ” shit that people always try to play off as harmless when it’s _fucking not_. For fuck’s sake, his _dad_ —the most naive person alive—patted Newt on the shoulder when he was fourteen and had been suspended for being caught making out in the dark locker room with the captain of the soccer team and then gave him a long talk about safe sex practices and the importance of people’s feelings in relationships.

His _dad_. It had also been a shockingly not-awkward conversation but that’s, like, a completely different discussion.

 _Anyway_ , Newt still has to go into work that Monday and it’s stupid and annoying but, since Hermann isn’t talking to him, maybe he can ask Raleigh The Receptionist to lunch? Even if he is a goy, the boy’s like a three legged puppy, with his left arm all drawn up to his chest and Newt can’t resist a hard-luck case.

And he’s so pumped to stare at a new cute guy and worried about when Hermann will come in later that morning that, as he’s parking his car and heading up to the building, he forgets the biggest danger of the office: Hannibal Chau, head of sales.

Like, Newt’s been around the block more than a few times—he’s definitely _not_ virginal or even in Hermann’s weird virginal-adjacent place—and he’s done pretty much everything once but he’s only really had about three long-term relationships (not in chronological order): Dave Callahan in high school, Hermann now and hopefully forever if Newt doesn’t shoot himself in the foot and Hannibal fucking Chau when Newt apparently went fucking insane and forgot his don’t-date- _truly-terrible-people_ policy for almost six months.

It was a bad time and he finally met Hermann in real life during about the last month of it and Hermann was _better_ and Hannibal was just so foul and terrible and—

“Well hello there, Geiszler,” he says, stopping the elevator doors before they can close all the way and allow Newt to travel safely up to top floor and his cologne has that _smell_ it always had.

Hannibal’s a big guy. That is to say, he’s tall and he’s got broad shoulders and a heavy jaw and a big mouth and he makes Newt feel tiny (which most people do, but anyway). He’s the sort of guy that wears luxury watches and stupidly expensive suits on a daily basis and doesn’t get why that’s stupid. He smells like Hugo Boss ads look and his hair is always styled in that stupid white pompadour—like who the fuck would think that’s cool—and his transition glasses just look so fucking _cheap_ because of all the expense of everything else.

And Newt knows that his right eye is made of glass and Hannibal used to take it out and put it on Newt’s lap as a joke and it was just so fucking gross. He’s so angry and embarrassed that he dated such a stupid fuck—

“Hey! Geiszler! You sleeping?” Hannibal rumples Newt’s hair and Newt slaps his hand away automatically.

“Don’t!” he snaps and Hannibal laughs, hands in his pockets like he’s so fucking cool. Newt wants to punch him so much but he can’t because they’re at work and no matter how much Hannibal likes having Newt around at office parties to tease, he wouldn’t hesitate to get him fired. Because Hannibal might be a deeply terrible person, but he’s a brilliant salesman and Hansen-Pentecost would never, ever get rid of him. Newt is actually more expendable, which sucks, because Newt is about five doctorates over-educated for this job.

“Calm down, sweetheart.” The doors open to the sales level and Hannibal steps out. Newt can see Mako waiting to accost Hannibal at the receptionist’s desk and Hannibal winks at Newt just as the elevator doors slide shut.

“Oh, _fuck you_!” he shouts at the brushed steel because it makes him feel better and they can’t fire him for being insubordinate unless it’s to Stacker Pentecost himself.

He’s the fucking head of research and fucking _no one_ gets to wink at him because he’s a fucking _married man_.

He covers his face with his hands and breathes for a couple moments, fingers rubbing all over his glasses and really trying not to give a fuck. There’s a soft _ding_ as the elevator reaches the top floor and he steps out.

 _Ah good_. There’s the cutie. Raleigh The Receptionist. He’s looking kind of pissed at the moment though, but Chuck seems to be giving him some lecture about faxes or something because he’s Chuck and that’s the sort of thing Chuck does.

And The Dog is there and Newt finds himself reaching for the pocket with his inhaler in advance.

“Hey, boychiks!” he says loudly, hoping to stop Chuck in the middle of whatever stupid thing he’s doing now. Chuck grimaces at him in greeting and Raleigh looks up from the notepad he’s been writing on and smiles hugely.

“Good morning, Dr. Geiszler! Can I help you with anything?”

“Hey!” Chuck slaps the counter and Raleigh turns back to him, eyebrows raised. “You’re writing shit down. Alright?”

“I’m supposed to greet people,” Raleigh says. Newt would laugh except it’s sort of sad.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt!” Newt says and leans against the counter beside Chuck, who rolls his eyes. “Continue!”

Chuck grumbles and continues rattling off numbers and Raleigh looks... annoyed? worried? He’s got that face that his Uncle Illia gets when Newt’s mom shows up unexpectedly, but Newt’s never been quite sure what that expression means.

Okay, it’s important to say that Newt actually really likes Chuck. Chuck is... Well, okay, Chuck is hot as fuck and Jewish to boot—but he’s also brash and over-emotional and all the things Newt kind of loves in other people. They actually met when Chuck was in university and Newt was volunteering at the campus clinic and Chuck came in with an upset stomach and no fever. He was a little heavier then, still not quite grown into his hands the way some boys are at nineteen—a bit like a puppy. He hadn’t started using gel at that point either, so his hair still looked like kitten fur: all light and downy like a kid with a static problem.

And he walked in with his cargo shorts and his frat jersey and Newt sort of laughed because the A E Pi boys are about the only ones he can stand (again, if he has the option, Newt is always going to go for the Jewish boys). And then Chuck started talking and Newt actually cut him off because _where did the Australian even come from_? And Chuck had been super annoyed and took ages, but Newt chatted with him for a bit while getting him a prescription for something to settle his stomach and learned that Chuck was on Orap which seemed weird because a typical antipsychotic? In this day and age? And granted, Newt’s specialty had never been psychiatry, but he knew when shit was fucked up.

Anyway, he got the number for Chuck’s psychiatrist and yelled at them for a bit until they agreed to switch Chuck over to something sensible and not medieval. And then, a few years later, when Herc _I’m-Not-Gay_ Hansen and Stacker Pentecost were starting their business and Chuck was still neck-deep in law school, he had called Newt up—and Newt still isn’t sure how Chuck found his number as they’d not seen each other since that one clinic meeting—and told him to come to a cocktail party because he had a great job for him if Newt wasn’t doing anything else

And even though Newt was teaching high school at the time, he decided to go because it was so flattering and sweet, because he’d not been trying to do Chuck any sort of huge favor—he was just trying to keep the kid healthy enough to get through college. Also it was only a couple hours’ drive and Newt had just replaced the radio in his car.

Newt showed up, was under-dressed—but, honestly, he wasn’t about to rent a tux to have a couple drinks—and Chuck met him at the door, looking all big and handsome in his suit and his little tie and—

Okay, Newt’s an honest guy so he’ll admit that he made more than a bit of an ass of himself that night, because he didn’t really think Chuck was offering him a job, but was trying to fuck him. And because Newt is a slut, always, he may have tried to initiate something that Chuck wasn’t trying for (Newt hadn’t really been totally sure sex was Chuck’s goal, to be honest, because he had seemed very straight before, but Newt just couldn’t imagine why Chuck would want to meet up otherwise). And that had been awkward. Profoundly awkward, because Herc had come over right afterward to introduce himself.

And, long story short, Newt ended up with a job thanks to Chuck.

The weird thing is that Chuck is so abrasive and dickish and some of that is because he’s more than a little fucked up, but it’s also just Chuck. But the same stuff that makes him terrible and annoying is the same stuff that makes him able to remember one doctor at the campus clinic years after a single appointment. And, like most people, Chuck’s often a slave to whatever his doctor is giving him and, like a lot of schizophrenics, Chuck switches medications at least twice a year and that can be tough on a person.

But Newt still sort of loves Chuck somehow. He’s like a really rude child and it makes it sort of fun to hang out with him because he’ll say shit that’s so fucking rude it makes _Newt_ choke—but he’s also sweet and nice and he brought Hermann flowers when he had to be checked into the hospital for a little while last year and Newt knows that Chuck’s visit meant a lot to Hermann. Chuck is really more Hermann’s type than he is Newt’s and he likes having discussions with Hermann about philosophy and shit that Newt’s never had too much patience for—and Newt can understand the health benefits of talking John Stuart Mill with a Jewish boy whose dick can be seen through his pants eighty percent of the time.

Newt’s not the type to deny Hermann a little eye candy and Chuck is one fine, kosher specimen.

“There!” Chuck pushes himself back from the desk. “See you, Geiszler. Raleigh.” He walks back to his office, hands swinging by his sides, which, if Newt isn’t mistaken, means he’s in a good mood.

He’ll have to investigate.

“Hey, Raleigh!” Newt says, leaning fully against the counter, arms crossed. Raleigh smiles, a little nervous and pulls the stack of papers down onto his desk before Newt can knock them to the ground.

“Hello, Dr. Geiszler,” Raleigh says, his voice cheerful. “I’m afraid Dr. Gottlieb isn’t in yet, if you’re looking for him.”

Clever boy. Newt grins and shakes his head, rubbing his fingers over the plastic surface of the counter. “Nah, he’s dropping his daughter off at daycare. I just wanted to say hi! See how you’re getting on here.” He’s coming off as manic. He pauses and tries to figure out Raleigh’s face. Concerned? Content? Raleigh is a shockingly hard person to follow and Newt doesn’t want to annoy him because... “How are you doing?”

Raleigh smiles pleasantly. “I’m doing okay. I’ve still got a bit of a headache from Friday.”

“Oh! The investor thing!” Newt is sort of disappointed now that he missed it, even though he’s not much of a party goer anymore. “How did that go?”

“It went okay.” Raleigh nods and bites his tongue for a moment. “I went as Mako’s plus one.”

“Nice!” Newt remembers the green tea latte at the last board meeting. Newt wonders if they fucked that weekend. Or maybe they’re going to be one of those intolerable couples that takes _forever_ to finally get to it. Raleigh seems like a slow mover. “How did that go?”

And Raleigh... blushes. Newt hasn’t had much experience with people actually blushing in real life. Chuck goes red when he’s angry but this is... this is something else entirely. The redness starts at Raleigh’s cheeks and spreads through his face and down his neck. Newt opens his mouth and he’s not sure what he’s going to say, but then the elevator _dings_ again and Raleigh turns _even redder_.

“Good morning, Ms. Mori,” he says, his eyes wide and unblinking. “How was your weekend?”

Newt turns around to look at Mako, who’s just pulling off her coat. She nods at Newt and smiles at Raleigh. “Good morning, Mr. Becket,” she says, approaching them, her throat covered with a white silk scarf. To be honest, Newt can see why Raleigh looks so fucking speechless. If he were straight, he would probably go for a type like Mako. “It was good. How was yours?”

“Good. Um. Thanks.”

She smiles and turns to Newt. “Do you need me to set you up in the conference room?”

“No! I’m good! Just saying hello to our receptionist here.”

She nods, looking a little disapproving, and leaves. Newt turns back to Raleigh, grinning.

“What did you do?” he asks and Raleigh looks plaintively at the ceiling.

“Nothing! I didn’t do anything!” He sounds annoyed now, like a high schooler that’s been caught looking at porn on a school computer. “I need to make these faxes. I’m sorry.”

Newt is delighted. This day could actually be really interesting with these sorts of developments.  “Hey,” he says and Raleigh looks back at him, his face still red. “Do you want to have lunch today? My treat.”

Raleigh rubs a hand over his face and his eyes look a little too shiny. “Yeah. I’d like that. I take lunch at one.”

“Sounds great! I’ll leave you to it.” Newt beats a retreat around the corner. He feels a little bad for Raleigh. It’s got to be difficult being essentially a human puppy—especially when you work with Chuck Hansen.

He glances into Chuck’s office as he heads toward the conference room. Chuck is looking in one of his drawers, mumbling under his breath. The office is almost as much of a catastrophe as Newt’s at home—only while Newt’s looks like a tornado hit it, Chuck’s is a distinctly human mess. Stacks of papers and folders cover the desk and the bookshelves look ready to overflow, post-its stuck to spines of books. There’s a stack of empty Starbucks cups on the floor that Newt is pretty sure must just be a mold palace by this point—and beside it is a plastic bag stuffed with trash from take-out food that has to be a mold empire. The floor is littered with crumpled receipts, broken pens and ripped-up bits of yellow note paper. It’s sort of funny though, because it’s like there’s a lot of little messes and then they’ve all joined together to create one big mess and that’s really just Chuck in a nutshell, isn’t it?

“What do you want, Geiszler?” Chuck asks, without looking up from the drawer he’s digging through and Newt realizes he’s been humming “Turning Japanese”, which was playing on the radio that morning and won’t _fucking get out of his fucking head_.

“Just came in to say hi,” Newt says, stepping over the threshold. He bets this office drives Mako crazy. She’s the sort that readjusts papers so that they align with table edges.

No wonder their relationship didn’t work—not that Newt got to witness any of that, but Chuck has told him the whole story more than a few times.

“Weren’t you asked here to do some actual work? Instead of whatever the fuck it is you all do in that lab.”

Newt laughs because Chuck is so fucking rude it’s kind of awesome. “Well, I _guess_.”

Chuck looks at him, expression annoyed but firm and serious.

“I’ve got a meeting with Hannibal Chau in, like, five minutes. Do you want to be here?”

And this here is one of the things Newt hates most about the office. Running into Hannibal is one thing because Hannibal at least knows everything that happened and besides that, Newt knows that he can avoid Hannibal, like, at least sixty percent of the time. No, the actual problem is _everyone else_ who can remember a six month downward spiral that finally ended with a messy argument at a Christmas party and Newt regressing so far, he wound up spending the entirety of his vacation time at his dad’s house, hiding in his room the way he used to and watching _Godzilla_ over and over and over again.

The problem is that everyone remembers how pathetic Newt was then and they see him as pathetic now. He is the pathetic faggot of the office who couldn’t figure his way out of a terrible relationship.

He swallows hard and readjusts his laptop bag on his shoulder. “I’ll talk to you later then.”

He works for about an hour in the conference room and then gets distracted by Cracked. He hears when Hermann goes into his office and his heart hurts for a moment because he hates all this _actual_ fighting, because he and Hermann are married for fuck’s sake and Newt is _trying_ (sort of) and it’s just terrible and he hates it because they’re both stubborn and they’re going to be fighting forever.

He works for another hour and then gets up to get a soda from the break room. He can hear voices from Chuck’s office—it sounds like Herc is in today, which is shocking because Herc never does anything. Newt gets a coke and paces around the break room for a bit.

He’s procrastinating. And he’s kind of hoping to “accidentally” run into Hermann because he misses him, but no such luck. He hears the door open to Chuck’s office and Herc walks in.

“Hello, Dr. Geiszler! I was sorry not to see you on Friday.”

Newt smiles, feeling awkward. He likes Herc Hansen. He really does. Or it’s more like he _would_ if Herc weren’t so much the person he is. As it is, he’s the sort of person that reeks of the closet and Newt doesn’t take well to that sort of person. Hermann is bad enough.

(That’s the one thing Newt is still really grateful to Vanessa for, because he was already in communication with Hermann when they started dating and got engaged and he knows how she opened him up and made him happy, not just with himself but with everything. It’s important and it’s the main thing he can’t really fault her for.)

Herc is gay and Newt is so fucking sure of it, but he’s also so closeted that it makes Newt uncomfortable to even talk around him, just in case he should mention being gay. After all, his dad taught him the most important rule about bullies back when he was in middle school.

 _The people who hit you the hardest are the people who need to prove they aren’t like you_.

“Please! How many times do I have to tell you to call me Newt!”

Herc laughs and gives Newt a firm slap on the shoulder, his fingers lingering a little on the leather of Newt’s jacket. “I hope Chuck behaved himself while at your house,” Herc says, like Chuck is fucking five years old or something.

“Nope! He was good.” Newt grins and the points to the door. “I need to check in on Hermann real quick before I get back to work. Talk to you soon!” He steps towards the hall before Herc calls him back.

“Oy! Don’t you want your coke?” he asks, smile broad. Ugh. He’s handsome in that sort of rugged tan way that too many closeted men are, where they have to prove their masculinity with badly tied ties and broad shoulders and stubbly cheeks. And Herc got that Golden Goy thing going on too, even though some of his hair is graying in places. He’s weathered and handsome in a weird way.

Newt grabs his coke from the table. “See you!”

Herc gives him a _fucking wave like how does he expect anyone to not think he’s queer as fuck_.

He doesn’t both knocking on Hermann’s door, just barges in as always. Hermann glares at him from behind his computer, his glasses making him look older and stuffier than usual.

“Are you still not talking to me?” Newt asks, because he really just needs a place to hide from Herc Hansen for a bit.

Hermann just looks back down at the computer and continues typing. Newt sighs.

“I’m sorry for yelling at Emma last night,” he says, because he _is_ sorry, because if he’s not a competent parent and Hermann hates him all the time now and it just fucking sucks. “It was shitty of me.”

Hermann glares at him for a moment and scowls before typing something else. “In answer to your question, Newt, yes, I am still not speaking to you.”

“Okay, but can I stay in here for a couple minutes so I don’t have to talk to Herc Hansen?”

“You’re such a child,” Hermann snaps, throwing his glasses down on the table. Newt rolls his eyes and opens his coke.

“Please tell me more, _dad_.”

Hermann scoffs and does some weird little hand gesture. “If only your father could’ve managed to teach you some manners. Like to _knock_ before just _barging in_ all willy nilly?”

“What are you? A hundred?”

“Leave my office!”

“You find Herc Hansen as creepy as I do! Don’t lie!”

“I am still extremely angry at you, Newton! Please _leave_!”

“Whatever! Fine!” Newt leaves and slams the door behind him. Mako pokes her head out of her office door.

“Don’t,” she says, sternly. Newt glowers at her.

“Sorry,” he says without meaning it. She raises one eyebrow, but returns to her office.

 

He takes Raleigh to a burger place he knows a little ways off from the main office building where the service is quick and there’s a weird table by the back that’s always free for Newt to snatch.

Raleigh turns out to be really good company. He talks about nothing and fills the silence, which is nice, because usually that’s Newt’s job. He talks about absolutely nothing, which is a special sort of challenge. Newt has to admire a man who can fluently bullshit for ten whole minutes. He decides he likes Raleigh, goy and all, and when they finally settle into their table, Newt takes a sip of his coke and leans his elbows on the table.

“So! The investor party! Tell me all!”

Raleigh’s cheeks turn pink again, which makes his eyes look super blue. Super goy.

“I just made an ass of myself.” He’s quiet. He’s embarrassed. Newt nods for a few moments.

“How so?”

Raleigh sighs and takes a bite of his burger, looking worried. “I was in the army and I have, like, stuff from that and I kind of freaked out part way through the party and it was really stupid.” He swallows thickly and sighs again. “It doesn’t matter anyway. She’s dating Chuck Hansen.”

Oh God. Oh God. Is that why Chuck was swinging his arms? Oh God, he cannot be dating Mako again. That would be the absolute _worst thing_.

“Army, huh?” Newt asks, because a subject change is clearly necessary. Newt is pretty anti-military on principal, but he imagines that that would be a bad thing to bring up to Raleigh.

Raleigh shrugs, concentrating on his burger.

“Is that what happened to your arm?”

“Shoulder, but... yeah. Um. Can I just ask—”

“Go for it.”

“—What the _fuck_ made you want to marry Dr. Gottlieb?”

Newt chokes from laughing. “Where did you get the married thing from?”

“Facebook,” Raleigh says, chewing calmly.

“Creepy. Uh. Can I say ‘temporary insanity’ as a reason?”

“Are you guys still married? Only Tendo said something about a divorce, but I didn’t...” he trails off awkwardly. “You—uh—you don’t need to say anything if you don’t feel, like, comfortable or anything.”

“Not divorced,” says Newt, tapping his wedding ring. Raleigh leans forward to get a closer look.

“Is that Hebrew on it?” he asks, squinting a little.

“Yeah.”

“Neat!” He leans back in his chair, picks back up his burger and finishes it in two bites. “I should be heading back.”

Newt nods and shoves the rest of his burger in his mouth, even though “the rest” is actually the remaining half. He’s shoved bigger things in his mouth before. _Ha_.

 

He doesn’t finish his paperwork that day and he doesn’t drive home with Hermann at three even though he wants to. He misses Hermann, but Hermann’s clearly being a fucking douche, so he’ll be a douche too. Normally at the lab, Newt can hang around until six or so, but the office doesn’t allow him that luxury, so he ends up back at their little bungalow-style house at five thirty and Emma’s Barbies are all over the living room floor and Hermann _still_ won’t talk to him.

The next couple days are unpleasant, because Newt doesn’t really get a chance to talk to anyone at the office thanks to Mako’s pushiness and he finishes the reports on Wednesday and no one gives a fuck when he comes back to the lab on Thursday. There’s a lot to do, though. He’s been away a while, but the samples were still there and by the time he gets home, he’s buzzing to add something to his newest paper that he thought of on the way back from the lab, but Hermann basically accosts him as he passes through the kitchen to the hall.

“I didn’t yell at Emma, okay?” Newt snaps. “Even though her toys are fucking everywhere and there’s no room in this _fucking house_ to _fucking think_ , I didn’t yell at her, alright? So why don’t you back off?”

“Thank you,” Hermann says, narrowing his eyes, “for reaching the minimum requirements of decent parenting.”

“There’s no pleasing you!” Newt shouts and he hears Emma call something in the living room. Hermann glares at him. “I didn’t _want_ to have a kid, okay? I wanted to just live here with you in domestic _fucking_ bliss. No kids. No... _fucking_ Vanessa. _None of it_.”

“Well, it might interest you to know that she will be joining us for Shabbes dinner,” Hermann says, giving Newt a _fuck you_ smile. “Vanessa, I mean.”

Newt doesn’t really remember what he screams at Hermann, but he ends up inside his own study a couple minutes later, out of breath, his face burning. He aims a kick at the wall and dents the plaster.

Fucking Vanessa.

He ends up back in the hallways before he realizes it and he rushes straight for Hermann, fists clenched with anger because he’s just _not doing this_.

“I’m _sorry_ ,” he snaps. Hermann looks at him witheringly from the stovetop and Newt hates that Hermann just doesn’t argue when he’s actually angry at him because he knows that Newt loves yelling and screaming and it sucks. “I’m sorry. I’m actually sorry, okay? I just want to have dinner with you and Emma and Vanessa, I guess, and Chuck, probably, and to play happy gay families for the rest of my life, okay?”

“ _You_ agreed to have Emma,” Hermann finally shouts, slamming the wooden spoon down on the old stove top. “ _You_ agreed. I _never_ forced you. I don’t know why this is coming out so suddenly with all the shouting and ridiculous behavior—”

“What was I supposed to do? Where else could she even go? And it’s not coming out of nowhere; I told you—”

“You said nothing! You said it was fine. You signed bloody adoption papers and then suddenly out of absolutely nowhere you started screaming at her and you’ve not _stopped_ , Newton! You haven’t even _tried_ to stop. I’m—”

“ _Papa_!” Emma cries shrilly and Newt turns to see her standing in the doorway, blonde doll in hand, marker smeared across her cheek. “Papa, are you—are you fighting?”

“What do you _think_ we’re doing?” Newt asks, because _seriously_.

“Oh just _shut up_!” Hermann shouts, gripping the stove top because his cane is still leaning against the kitchen table.

Emma starts crying and the conversation is completely derailed.

 

Hermann puts Emma to bed and Newt washes up in the kitchen. It’s actually a really nice house when he and Hermann aren’t fighting, but the kitchen is long and narrow and has this really ugly patterned wallpaper that he and Hermann are both too lazy to get rid of. It’s sort of yellow-green and has this terrible, headache-inducing design that looks like whatever would be produced if a polka dot mated with a plaid. The area above the stove though is mostly blacked out from a fire that happened before they moved in and wood below the dishwasher is bleached out from a persistent leak that just won’t fix, no matter how much Newt tinkers with it.

He washes each dish before putting them in the dishwasher and he’s sort of surprised by the sight of his hands—red and raw-looking from the too-hot water that he’s filled the sink with. He lifts another dish from the water and rubs at a bit of egg with his finger.

“Newton.”

He looks over to the doorway where Hermann is standing, leaning on his cane like he’s a human Tower of Pisa. He’s wearing about five sweaters because Hermann can’t keep weight on ever and is thus constantly underweight and extremely cold. He remembers suddenly the first time he successfully found an image of Hermann online. It was after he’d gotten his first big grant and there was a photo of him with some big shot German intellectual and Hermann was so young in the picture, his face thin but soft, his shoulders narrow, his hair dark and suspiciously neat. He was wearing so many layers in the picture, Newt had kind of assumed Hermann was going to be kind of chunky, like he was at the time.

And then he and Hermann met because they were both going to be in Boston for some reason and Newt went to meet him at the airport, holding a cardboard sign and feeling like a total idiot because he didn’t want to take off his winter coat but the airport was sweltering. He shook Hermann’s hand for the first time and was surprised by how bony and thin it was. Like, he could feel the individual muscle strands and the cartilage of his joints and Newt suddenly felt, even though Hermann was taller than him, like he was too big and clumsy for the massive, over-crowded airport; like he must have looked to Hermann like someone wearing one of those big, blow-up Sumo wrestling suits.

He leans over and puts the plate in the dishwasher. There’s a reason Hermann doesn’t do the dishes. “I really am sorry. I just am bad with kids, I guess.”

He’s never ever going to tell Hermann he might be unsafe to be around Emma. He’s never going to tell Hermann that he was told not to have kids. He’s not going to be the reason he’ll lose Hermann (and part of him is certain he’ll lose Hermann because maybe Newt just isn’t built for monogamy, even though at this point he can’t imagine having sex with anyone else ever again, is sometimes surprised to remember it wasn’t Hermann he lost his virginity to and shared his first kiss with).

“Please,” Hermann says, “ _please_ try.”

Newt nods, because he doesn’t know what else to say. His eyes feel hot and his glasses are getting steamed up from the dish water. He yanks the plug out of the drain and begins picking up silverware and setting it in the dishwasher.

Hermann’s arms, thin but strong under the many sweaters, wrap around him and Newt can feel Hermann pressing against his back, just as his cane presses into his stomach.

“I love you very much,” Hermann says, his voice more businesslike than he probably meant. Newt smiles and closes his eyes.

“I love you too.”

 

They don't have sex that night, which sucks but that's how things have been going lately so Newt isn't too surprised. He climbs into bed beside Hermann around nine thirty, feeling weirdly young. Hermann smiles at him over his reading glasses and closes his book and Newt must have a boner or something that makes his intentions obvious because Hermann makes this _face_ and inhales sharply.

"Oh."

"I'm sorry. I'm just not... I'm still a touch angry. And I'd rather not make love when I'm angry."

Newt nods because, yeah, he is the one that fucked up here. He's even charitable enough to not mock Hermann for saying 'make love' instead of 'fuck'. He just gets under the covers and curls up close to Hermann, feeling a little hungry and a little awkward. He wishes this night were a different night, because the duvet is soft and warm and light and the mattress crushes gently beneath him and it's so uncomfortable but even an hour later, when Hermann has shut off the light and Newt is still awake, his hand on Hermann's chest, he can't feel content.

He's having trouble feeling anything lately besides annoyance at Emma because even though Newt fucked up, Emma is still driving him absolutely crazy.

He takes his phone from the bedside table, nearly knocking over the wine bottle/candle-holder he's had since sophomore year of college—his birthday wine from when he turned eighteen and his dad and his mom and his uncle all stood together without screaming for ten seconds to pop the cork and pour Newt his first legal drink. An eighteen year old red which had hit his head quickly because Newt is a lightweight always. His mother bringing her special crystal glasses and placing one carefully in his hand, his father pouring glasses for each of them: Newt, his mother, his uncle, his paternal grandparents, his mother's aunt and lastly for himself. The red shone in the candlelight and warmed his cheeks and burned in his stomach and they all sang to him, his mother louder than the rest, and lifted him up in his chair like he was still a kid, like when he was about ten in Berlin and his friends' older brothers and sisters lifted him so high that his head bashed against the ceiling.

He doesn't have any new texts.

 

He finally falls asleep around five and wakes up an hour later, feeling sick and confused. Emma is already up and Hermann is exercising his leg. Newt flops over towards him, wrapping his arms around Hermann's waist, but he slaps Newt's hands away—"For God's sake, go help Emma get dressed."

Newt groans, but stumbles from bed and down the hall, scratching at his stubble. Emma is trying to brush her hair with a comb and sort of failing because her hair is too thick and too curly to comb when dry. He takes the comb from her hair and makes her sit on top of the toilet to brush her hair. Hermann's hands shake too much for this sort of thing, but unfortunately Newt's a pretty shitty stylist when he's not styling himself and he can't twist Emma's hair into little knots the way Vanessa does when she comes to visit which is _too fucking often_. He pulls it into two little pigtails instead while she talks about _My Little Pony_ or _Hello Kitty_ or something that Newt manages to filter out because his brain isn't functional. He helps her brush her teeth and brushes his own and considers shaving before giving up and shoving Emma into her room to dress herself so he can piss and make breakfast.

The eggs are burning. He's sort of aware of it while also being completely unable to summon the energy to move. Hermann enters the kitchen with Emma. "You were up all night with your phone! It's that little screen that's keeping you awake, you know." And Newt feels like every smell and sound is going to be the last straw and he'll finally hurl, but he doesn't. Emma climbs the little step ladder that's attached to her high chair and the creaking of the metal is so loud. "You really ought to learn to go to sleep at a decent hour. You'd gotten so good at it before."

He's late into the lab which is shitty because he's the boss, but Petra, the Spock to his Kirk, laughs at the sight of him and refuses to let him work unless he sleeps for the next two hours in his office. (It's a broom closet—like, literally four feet by five—and the people at the main office complain about their work spaces and he just wants to laugh at them because _seriously_ , those things are double extra fucking _luxe_ compared to his. It's worse than his office as a GTA and that room he shared with three other grad students at any given time.)

He falls asleep on the floor beside his desk and doesn't wake up until about two PM when his cellphone chimes and vibrates and everything else. He picks it up from the floor beside him and looks at the screen.

 **Chuck Hansen** : _do I need to bring anything to dinner tonight?_

Newt scowls at his phone for a moment before realizing that it's actually good that he woke up from it because he should actually, like, do work at his job. He texts Chuck back quickly (' _nope just youre charming self ;)_ ') and leaves the weird fake wood paneling of his office. Petra grins from one of the lab tables as he steps out, her crooked teeth making the smile somehow more judgmental.

"D'you score last night, boss?" she asks smugly. He grimaces and looks at the computer stats. That's the trouble with this sort of research. It means that basically he and Petra spend eight hours a day sitting around shooting the shit and there's nothing to do. He should get into zoology again. Or paleontology (his deepest passion). Or even teaching is better than this shit.

"Nope. You?"

"Nah," she says, shaking her head, braids swaying. "Just stayed in and watched Netflix—the only man for me."

"I don't want to go home tonight. It's becoming depressing."

"Oh! Surprise, surprise! Newt 'Kosher Slut' Geiszler isn't enjoying his marital monogamy! I'm not shocked at all."

"Yeah. The monogamy is the least of my problems," he mutters and Petra, the love-of-his-life if he were even remotely heterosexual, doesn't push the issue.

Five o'clock comes quickly, largely because he slept through most of the day and the most action the lab sees are some new samples being delivered and call from Tendo to remind the lab workers to renew their emergency contact information because apparently some of the underlings had been dumb enough to put '9-1-1' down for theirs.

(Newt can't judge them too harshly. When he was hired, he wrote that he had aspergers on his file, not realizing that the information contained there wasn't especially private. Not that anything happened to it, but he did ask for Tendo to expunge the information, which Tendo did because he wasn't an asshole.)

He actually does briefly consider blowing off Hermann for the night, driving off to visit... (And the issue here is that Newt's dad has moved to London and his uncle has returned to Berlin and his mother is in Tokyo, singing _Madame Butterfly_ , and Newt doesn't really have a lot of people besides his family and Hermann.)

He gets home at six after stopping by the liquor store to get some extra Manischewitz. There are two cars parked in the driveway and a third parked by the curb, which Newt recognizes as Chuck's car. He pulls up behind it and gets out, bottles in hand, and wanders up the concrete path through their lawn (which they don't care for very well, much to the annoyance of their neighbors). When he enters the living room, still pulling off his coat, they're already all sitting around on the sofa and the armchairs, all talking loudly to each other, Emma's high pitched voice louder than the rest.

Closest to the kitchen is Hermann who's sitting next to some nebbishy looking black guy with a fade and thick red glasses. The guy has to be shorter than Newt and his clothes are impeccable and brightly colored. Something about him is just screaming nebbishy. Maybe it's the way his legs are crossed or the way he's letting Hermann yammer on and on, probably about math or something else like that. Hermann looks flushed and cheerful. It's weird—Hermann hates every single person on the planet (including Newt) until Shabbat and then he's like fucking Martha Stewart. He's wearing the cardigan Newt bought him for his last birthday and it looks too heavy even though it's a cold October. His cane sits propped against the side of his chair and his legs aren't crossed or anything stupid that would fuck him over for the next eternity.

Vanessa is sitting on the sofa with Chuck, her long legs shining like an old Hollywood movie star's. Her hair is all out and huge and curling about a foot away from her head. She’s wearing one of her usual bright-colored dresses, simple in cut but it looks fucking perfect on her. (Newt feels uncomfortable in his clothes.) Her long hands are folded over her knees. Chuck is looking at her like she’s some kind of precious fucking jewel, like she’s special or something.

She’s the first one to notice him walk through the door and she smiles like it’s a fucking toothpaste commercial and says, “Newton! How are you?”

Newt tries to smile for Hermann’s sake, but he’s pretty sure it looks more like a scowl. “Hey Vanessa!”

Hermann rises awkwardly, looking vaguely guilty, which make Newt feel somehow weirder and more nervous than before, like he’s walked in on a scene where he isn’t wanted or needed or anything—where he isn’t anything, because that totally makes sense, like what the fuck—

“Oh! Thank you for bringing the wine! Could you please go turn off the stove for me, by any chance?”

Newt stares. “Like, seriously no one else could’ve done this before I got home?”

Hermann scoffs like this is absurd and Newt’s awkward feeling seems to sort of fall away, because at least Hermann is being annoying and bossy, not... nervous with some nebbishy, well-dressed sap. Newt shoots a look at the guy as he heads into the kitchen. He doesn’t realize Emma is right behind him until he turns around to go back to the living room. Newt jumps and tries not to shout at her for scaring him. Instead, he bites his lip for a moment and squats down next to her as Hermann tries to do sometimes no matter how much Newt yells at him not to because he’s going to fuck up his leg and his hip that way.

“Hey, Emma!” he says, trying to keep his voice _as cheerful as possible_. “What’s up?”

“I was...” she says, voice high pitched and whispery. “I was wondering... when is dinner...?” She looks at him with dark eyes and a lot of her hair has escaped from the pigtails he put it in that morning and there’s some paint on her skirt that’s never going to come out. Newt sighs a little through his nose.

“In just a couple minutes, okay?” he says and she hums something sadly in response. “What was that?”

“I just... I love you, vati,” she says. Newt resists the urge to roll his eyes. She says this all the time and every time she does, Hermann pulls her close and applauds her and spoils her, even though she’s just saying the same thing over and over without really knowing what it means except that it makes Hermann smile.

“Okay,” he says and picks her up to return to the living room. There’s been some rearrangement of people, so Hermann and Vanessa are both in conversation with each other and the nebbishy guy (Newt learns later that he’s Vanessa’s boyfriend and laughs because _seriously, she has the weirdest taste_ ) and Chuck is examining one of the books sitting on the coffee table. Newt drops Emma on the floor with her toys and sits beside Chuck, sighing. Chuck looks at him, lips pursed.

“Your last report had over twenty typos,” Chuck says. Newt shrugs.

“Are you dating Mako again?” he asks and he meant to ease into the topic, but, yeah. Shit’s important, et cetera, et cetera.

Chuck furrows his brows and stares at Newt. “What are you talking about?”

Newt for some reason feels like he’s being put on the defensive, so he acts defensive. “You just seemed cheerful earlier and I heard something about the two of you—”

“Who?”

“Huh?”

“Who said we’re dating?” Chuck’s face is going blotchy and his hands are balled into fists. Newt’s heart rate would’ve increased, except he’s seen Chuck act this way about being told his cousin was getting married.

“Raleigh said he thought you two were seeing each other,” Newt explains and Chuck’s body relaxes and he leans back against the sofa again, his expression just sour now instead of furious.

“That guy’s a moron,” Chuck says, grimacing.

“Yeah, we’re talking about whether or not you and Mako are fucking,” Newt says. Chuck rolls his eyes.

“We’re not together,” he says. “We haven’t been together since uni. We will probably never date again. I dunno what that twat is talking about.”

“Why were you swinging your arms on Monday then?” Newt asks.

“What?”

“Swinging your arms. Means you got laid.”

Chuck rolls his eyes again, but he’s puffed up his chest a little, pride seeping through. “I’m seeing someone right now,” he explains and smiles a little. “We’ve not... I mean, we haven’t... _you know_ , but it’s—it’s pretty serious. It’s been a couple weeks so far.”

“Nice!” Newt says and Hermann stands up and clears his throat.

“I suppose we all ought to make our way to the dining room,” he says and everyone stands up. Emma rushes to follow him and Hermann takes her hand in his. Vanessa walks behind them, her hand in nebbishy man’s hand—but if they weren’t holding each other, she, Emma and Hermann would look like a... well, not like a Norman Rockwell painting, exactly, but something similar. Something as wholesome and pretty.

Newt walks behind Chuck and thinks about the wine he’ll be drinking in a couple minutes.

**Author's Note:**

> Just so you know! My tumblr URL is cinnamon-lady24 and Maggie (my sister and co-writer)'s is meloyhaberman. We both have tags on there for the Office!AU which contains hints about future events. ;)


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